


Fraternization

by doctorhelena



Category: Agent Carter - Fandom, Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Colonel Phillips has his hands full with these two, F/M, POV Outsider, Wartime Steggy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 05:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19900828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorhelena/pseuds/doctorhelena
Summary: As if Carter and Rogers weren’t bad enough separately. Phillips is getting too old for this.





	Fraternization

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution for Steggy Week 2019 Day 7 (free choice).

Steve Rogers was short and skinny and so perpetually out of breath it made you wince to watch him, but Phillips had maybe started to see what Erskine was getting at. The kid had grit, and he was no coward, you had to give him that.

Agent Carter had come around to Erskine’s way of thinking even sooner, and she was the one who saw Rogers in action the most. Phillips trusted her judgement, mostly. She was smart and tenacious, and showed little sign of allowing herself to be distracted by the sea of red-blooded young men she was constantly surrounded by.

Except, oddly enough, when it came to Rogers.

Bemused, Phillips took in the way she looked at him, and had to conclude that somehow, even though she could have had any of the taller, handsomer, more athletic men at Camp Lehigh, she wanted the runt. 

And when Rogers stepped out of Erskine’s capsule in his shiny new body, Phillips nearly snorted at the look on Carter’s face and at the way she reached out to touch his chest before she caught herself and snatched her hand back.

In the end, it was probably a good thing they couldn’t bring the kid with them to Italy. Carter was his best agent, and he needed her focused on the task at hand.

\-----

The next time he saw the two of them together, he wasn’t nearly so amused. He’d been signing condolence letters for hours, so many that his hand had cramped up and the names had started to run together, and he wasn’t in any kind of mood to deal with the Star-Spangled Man with a Plan.

He glared at Carter. “You and I are gonna have a conversation later that you won’t enjoy.” She looked back at him steadily and said nothing, and he gave an inward sigh. The same qualities of initiative and flexibility that made Carter an excellent spy also made her inconveniently good at finding loopholes in orders she didn’t approve of.

He’d known she’d try something, he reflected later. But he sure as hell hadn’t thought she’d steal a plane and drop Rogers 30 miles behind the most heavily fortified enemy territory in Europe.

Not your typical action of a woman with a crush. But, then, Carter was in a class of her own. Not many women, for example, could single-handedly threaten the survival of the SSR in one blow.

He glared at her. “I took a chance with you, Agent Carter. And now America’s golden boy and a lot of other good men are dead, cause you had a crush.”

“It wasn’t that,” she said, unflinching. “I had faith.”

And then, of course, Rogers had actually pulled it off, marching back into camp with nearly 400 men from the captured 107th and enough Hydra weaponry to keep Stark busy for months. “Faith, huh?” Phillips asked Carter as he passed by. She was too busy staring at Rogers to answer.

So, maybe it had been faith. She’d been adamant that Rogers’ abilities were wasted on the USO circuit, and maybe she’d been right. 

But she hadn’t, he noticed, actually denied that she had a crush. 

\-----

Next thing he knew, she'd tried to shoot the poor guy. 

He called her into his office with a sigh. "What the hell were you thinking, Agent?"

Carter, as usual, betrayed nothing with her expression, but her colour was high and the look in her eye was dangerous.

"I was testing Captain Rogers' new shield."

Phillips nodded. "And it didn't occur to you to warn anybody? To, maybe test it when Rogers wasn't holding it in the middle of a group of unsuspecting bystanders?"

Her chin lifted a tiny bit higher. "Stark's team had tested it in the lab already. If Captain Rogers and his team are going to use it in the field, it should be tested under field conditions."

Phillips raised his eyebrows. "And you were absolutely positive the vibranium would absorb the momentum of those bullets? A good percentage of our top scientists and engineers were in that lab, Agent Carter. Including Howard Stark, and I don't have to tell you the kind of headache I'd get trying to explain that casualty."

Carter tossed her head. "I'd seen the ballistics results for all of Stark's prototype shields. I knew what would happen."

"Uh huh."

She held his gaze. "Everything was under control."

Phillips snorted. "Right." He could believe she'd seen and memorized the ballistics test results, but Carter had a temper. "The way I hear it, Rogers had no idea what was about to happen. I suppose you're about to tell me you'd seen the results of the tests on him too, and knew he was fast enough to get out of the way."

Her nostrils flared slightly. "Rogers certainly does move quickly, and he has no idea about a great many things."

Phillips gave her a sardonic look. "Well, I have an idea. You lost your temper. Now, I don't know what the hell kind of lover's quarrel you two are in the middle of, but it stops here."

“It isn’t a lover’s quarrel.” Her upper lip curled angrily. “I have no interest in any sort of romance with him.”

Phillips turned his gaze to the pile of papers on his desk, shuffling through them until he found the one he wanted. “Good. Because this is a war, and I don’t want any drama out in the field.”

She looked a little thrown. “I - pardon?”

“Don’t make me regret this, Carter. That ridiculous team Rogers just put together needs an SSR liaison, and since that gamble you and Stark made actually paid off, you’re the lucky winner.” Her eyes widened slightly, and he handed her the paper with her new orders. “Congratulations. Now, maybe you want to go smooth things over with Rogers before you start putting your lives in each other’s hands.” 

She folded the paper and slipped it inside her jacket. “Thank you, sir. I’m quite certain we can put aside our differences in the interest of destroying Hydra.”

He scowled at her. “Get a hold on your temper, Carter. If I hear about you shooting Rogers, or anyone else on our own side again, heads will roll.”

She nodded. “It won’t happen again.”

It didn’t, at least not that Phillips heard of. Of course, the Howling Commandos were loyal to a fault, and a gunshot wound to Rogers was usually only a minor inconvenience, so who knew. The important thing was, Phillips himself didn’t have to deal with it.

\-----

Months into the arrangement, Phillips had to admit that the Howling Commandos were getting results. Rogers’ quick glance at the map in the Krausberg factory had them methodically picking off Hydra weapons facilities, and Carter’s targeted espionage had gained them new targets with every successful hit. They were slowly cutting off the heads of Hydra, and not all of them were growing back. 

They hadn’t been entirely without casualty. Dugan had been grazed in the arm by a stray bullet in Poland, Dernier had broken an ankle in Belarus, and Morita had suffered from odd, slow-healing burns when lost his radio to a close call with a Hydra energy weapon forty miles west of the Maginot line.

Carter herself was currently out of commission, recovering from taking two bullets to the right shoulder during a firefight in Lithuania. She was nearly recovered, waiting out the Commandos’ current mission before she rejoined them in the field.

Phillips stuck his head into her office. “Latest batch of newsreels is in. Want to see what your boys are up to in your absence?”

Carter set down the report she was reading and stood up. “I may as well, I suppose.” She matched his pace, walking beside him through the maze of hallways to the screening room. “I don’t like that we’re receiving so much publicity," she said. "I think we’re skirting the line of compromising our missions. Captain America is getting too recognizable.”

Phillips shrugged. “You can go ahead and veto anything you don’t think should go out for security reasons, but Rogers didn’t stop driving bond sales when he left the USO circuit.” The corners of his mouth turned up. “You sure you’re not just jealous because you’re never in them?”

She rolled her eyes. Even the most publicity-hungry of the higher-ups had to admit it wasn’t good practice for a spy to have her image broadcast indiscriminately in theatres across America, so any glimpses of Peggy Carter caught on camera were meticulously edited out of the final reels. Privately, Phillips suspected the brass was just as glad to have an excuse to keep the existence of a female member of Captain America’s crack team of commandos as quiet as possible.

They settled into their seats, side-by-side, and watched the flickering screen as Jones, Dugan, Dernier, Morita, and Falsworth conferred next to a jeep, larger than life. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Carter lean forward almost imperceptibly and then relax slightly as the camera shifted to Rogers and Barnes, alive and well and leaning over a map on the hood. 

Rogers pointed at something in the distance and opened his compass, and Phillips suppressed a snort at what was pasted on the inside of the cover. The camera panned across the map, then held steady on a close-up of the instrument in Rogers’ hand, giving viewers a long, clear look at the photo inside. As Rogers noticed and closed the compass, glaring at the camera, Phillips gave Carter a sidelong glance. She didn’t turn her head, but her eyes met his, a little reluctantly.

“Walk with me, Carter,” he said as the lights came up in the theatre. 

“The entire scene with the compass would have to be censored out regardless, because of the map,” she said, after a long silence.

“That’s beside the point, and you know it,” he said. They’d reached his office, and he gestured to her to follow him in. “You’re damned lucky that compass didn’t show up in any shots that weren’t showing the map, or you might find Public Affairs arguing to keep it in. Everyone loves a romance.” He gestured. “Sit down.”

They both seated themselves, he behind his desk, Carter in front of it. Phillips steepled his fingers. “I won’t insult either of our intelligences by asking if you knew that picture was in there.”

Carter inclined her head slightly, but didn’t say anything.

“Look,” he said. “You know the rules about fraternization as well as I do. I don’t want to have to issue you a reprimand, and I sure as hell don’t want to have to reassign you.”

Her eyes flashed. “I wasn’t aware that carrying a picture in one’s compass constituted fraternization. Sir.”

Phillips sighed. “Look, I’m not blind. For God’s sake, you’re a spy. Can’t you be a little more clandestine about it?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Does Captain Rogers strike you as particularly sneaky?”

His lips twitched. “Look,” he said. “I care about results. That team of yours has already shut down three of the five major Hydra weapons facilities Rogers identified on that map, and about two dozen smaller bases along the way. Whatever it is you’re doing, it’s working, and personally, I don’t really care what’s going on between you and Rogers, as long as you don’t shoot him again.”

Carter blinked.

Phillips gave her a narrow-eyed look. “Just don’t put me in a position where I have to have a conversation like this with you again, because I promise you it won’t go as well next time. Do you understand what I’m saying, Agent Carter?”

She nodded. "I do, sir. Thank you."

\-----

Whatever the two of them were up to they seemed to have heeded his advice, because they kept it blessedly off his radar for months. Until the night he turned the corner into the hallway that housed Rogers' sleeping quarters, sighed, then cleared his throat loudly. “Evening, Carter.”

She slowly turned her head. “Good evening, sir,” she said, breezily, as if he hadn’t just caught her sneaking out of Rogers’ room in stocking feet, shoes in hand, at 0300 hours.

They watched each other. “You know,” he said conversationally, “it would be a real shame if I caught you doing something stupid.”

“It would,” she agreed, pleasantly. “Of course, I know you’re aware that as Captain Rogers' official liaison, I often need to speak with him at odd hours on urgent matters.” She frowned. “I assume you were just coming to see him yourself. Has something happened?”

Phillips nodded. “Stick around, Carter. I sent Private Lorraine to wake you up, but it looks like I wasted her time.” He narrowed his eyes at her as he rapped on Rogers’ door.

Rogers answered almost immediately, in a T-shirt and uniform pants, his hair a tousled mess. “Sir.” He looked past him. “Oh, hi Peggy!” he added, so unconvincingly that Phillips snorted. 

“You’ve got lipstick on your neck, Rogers,” he said. Rogers flushed, his hand going to his unmarked collar, and Carter sighed. Phillips grinned to himself. It was easy to tell which one of them was the spy.

He stepped into the room, beckoning Carter to follow him, and closed the door behind him. “Have a seat, both of you." He commandeered the desk chair for himself, waving his hand in the direction of the unmade cot. Rogers went even redder and hastily pulled up the blanket, shoving the unmistakably lipstick-stained pillow behind him as he sat down. Carter gave Phillips an inscrutable look and sat down gracefully at the other end of the cot, all business.

Phillips opened the folder. “Just got some intel in from MI6 we need to move on ASAP. Seems Zola's on the move by train, and we've got details about where and when he'll be isolated and vulnerable. I need you two to get me a mission plan by 0800, and we’ll prep the Commandos to head out as soon as it’s approved.” He gave the two of them a narrow-eyed look. “You'd better grab your stuff and come work in Carter’s office. Wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”

“Of course, sir,” said Carter, holding out her hand for the folder. “That would be terribly unfortunate.” Phillips shot her a baleful look, and she had the grace to flush very slightly pink.

\-----

Phillips had often grumbled that Carter and Rogers would be the death of him, but this time they very nearly were. They’d caught up with the departing Valkyrie, Rogers balanced on the hood of the car ready to jump, when Carter suddenly cried “Wait!”, rose up in her seat, yanked him down by the strap of his suit, and kissed him, of all things. “Go get ‘em,” she breathed as she released him, and Rogers, looking a little stunned, just stared at her, unmoving.

“I’m not kissing you,” Phillips grumbled, and Rogers got ahold of himself and leapt for the Valkyrie, Phillips slamming on the brakes as soon as he was clear. The car spun to a halt, coming far too damned close to hurtling off the cliff, and Carter half-stood in her seat, staring up into the snowy sky as the Valkyrie disappeared into the distance. 

Phillips grabbed her arm. “Don’t overbalance us.”

They cautiously made their way onto solid ground, the car teetering alarmingly. “I know I ask you this a lot,” Phillips said, conversationally, as they watched it resettle, still balanced on the edge of the cliff, “but what the hell were you thinking?”

“I - ” Carter looked at him, and he could tell how hard she was trying to maintain control of her features. “I just - ” she took a deep shaky breath. “Do you truly think he’s going to come out of this alive?”

Phillips looked at her, consideringly. “I sure as hell didn’t think he was walking out of Krausberg after you and Stark had that little adventure, but a stubborn woman I know told me she had faith, and hell if she wasn't right. I wouldn’t count him out just yet.”

She took another shaky breath, then nodded. “You’re right. I suppose after we lost Barnes, it all just - ” she breathed in through her nose and set her shoulders. “Well, let’s get back to it, shall we? I believe we still have a base to secure.”

“And after we're done with that, Agent Carter,” said Phillips, “You and I are going to have a little talk.”

Later, as he quietly ushered Morita and the others out of the radio room, he wished to hell that the talk they were going to have could have been the stern reprimand he’d intended.

\-----

The war was over but the fight sure as hell wasn't, and over a year after the battle in Schmidt's stronghold, Phillips was starting to think the SSR wasn't quite the right tool for the job anymore.

The world had changed. They needed a new agency, still international but more secretive than the SSR, full of more spies than soldiers. Led by someone like Carter, who was near-incorruptible, smart and subtle when it suited her, but also stubborn as hell and not afraid of a fight. He grinned to himself, picturing her set loose on a few of his more annoying senatorial contacts with the full authority of directorship backing her up.

He had to admit they could use Stark’s skills too, and there was another point in Carter's favour - she was one of the only people he’d met who'd had any sort of success trying to wrangle the man.

He was pondering this when his secretary appeared in his doorway, crossed to his desk, and handed him a message. “It’s from Howard Stark, sir. Marked urgent.” Speak of the devil, he thought, as he opened it. He read it, blinked, and then picked up the phone, frowning.

“Carter,” she answered on the second ring, sounding a little distracted. “One moment.” He could hear her muffled voice. “I expect you’ll find that the ability to make your own coffee is an invaluable life skill you won’t regret mastering. As you can see, I’m on the telephone, and I do have a number of open cases that require my attention.”

Phillips waited a beat. “This a bad time, Carter?” He waved his secretary away, and she withdrew, closing the door behind her.

“I sometimes miss the days when it was perfectly acceptable to deal with this sort of situation with a well-placed punch,” Carter said, with a sigh, and then added, more cheerfully, “I expect you've heard from Howard."

"I have," Phillips said. "Under the doubtful assumption he hasn't gone completely off his rocker, what the hell is he going on about? And what's this about a wedding?"

Carter made an exasperated noise. "He wasn't supposed to - well, I suppose I should have known better than to let him break the news." She lowered her voice. "Sir, the conversation we need to have is better held in person. Are you in New Jersey this week?”

He raised his eyebrows. “I don’t like mysteries, Agent Carter.”

“I know, sir,” she said. “But you’ll see why this one is necessary.”

\-----

Howard Stark’s butler showed him in. “Mr. Stark and Miss Carter are waiting in the parlour,” he said, taking his coat. He paused for a moment, a tiny smile playing around his lips. “I expect you’ll need a drink. Do you still take your whiskey neat?”

It flashed through Phillips’ mind, briefly, to wonder if Carter had taken complete leave of her senses and agreed to marry Stark, in which case he would need a very large drink indeed. The two didn't look particularly enamoured of one another, thank God. But Carter was radiating a happiness that he hadn’t seen since before Rogers had nosedived that plane, and Stark was practically vibrating.

He scowled at them. “All right, spit it out.” He sighed. “I’m getting too old for this cloak and dagger garbage.”

Stark snorted. “Well then, Colonel, this might just kill you.” He leaned forward. “What do you know about time travel?”

Phillips rolled his eyes, but Carter interrupted him before he could speak. “I assure you it’s entirely relevant, sir.” She set down her drink and looked past him to the doorway, smiling the way he’d only ever seen her smile at - 

He followed her gaze to see Steve Rogers, grinning at him. “Evening, sir.”

“Oh God,” said Phillips, eloquently, and drained his glass.


End file.
